Fate
by friendofdobby
Summary: Just a one-shot of how i think they will eventually make it. Hope you like it.


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_A/N: A short one-shot of how I think it could happen. Not brilliant but let me know what you think - thanks._

**FATE**

It is something speculated upon by all that have entered Hogwarts since we left. The magnitude of our story is great: I would be the last to deny it. But then you see, there was Voldermort. The most evil wizard of our time, set upon vengeance and seeking to rid the world of all of those who were not considered 'pureblood'. Total psycho. You could be excused for thinking that the story of his eventual demise might be the most popular, most talked about in a hundred years. But it is not.

It is talked about of course. How could it not be? Voldermort and his Deatheaters plagued our lives at Hogwarts in one way or another since we first arrived. He slithered into the confined safety of our lessons and common room, interrupted our holidays and Quidditch games and took over some of the most important events of our young lives. But he didn't win. He didn't even come close. Not really.

It's our story that they talk about. To say it had nothing to do with him would be a total lie; of course it did, how could it not? He was there. All the time. No matter what. His hatred shined through sometimes and threatened us. But in the end he didn't matter because we were stronger. That was the way it was meant to be.

A wiser person than I once said that it is our choices that define who we are. I never believed that, I always chose fate. I blamed fate for everything and chose to give up, excusing my actions as insignificant as fate had a larger role to play. He taught me how wrong I was.

I believed that fate would bring us together. I chose to believe that because it was easier I suppose, than having to face the fact that I was too scared to tell him. To make him listen to what I really wanted to say. I just convinced myself he knew, and therefore didn't want to know me. At least not like that. But then something happened that showed me that really he didn't know; that while a man, he was a still a boy and therefore totally clueless.

That is what they whisper about and gossip. The story must have been told a hundred thousand times and everyone has an opinion. I don't suppose any of them are truly right.

It was the turning point you see.

He was going through so much. So much more than anyone his age had been through before. He had support if only he would reach out and take it. But he wouldn't. Perhaps it was his childhood, his upbringing. Ron thought so. Even when support was shoved in his face, held up for all to see he wouldn't accept it. At least not from me.

I always thought that I annoyed him. I wasn't part of the trio after all. I wasn't exceptionally brave or smart or pretty. I could fly quite well, but then who couldn't? I always felt like I was bothering him, intruding on his space when all he wanted was to be alone. I wanted to help so badly but I didn't know how. I resigned myself to fate. What will be will be. And I still believe that – if I didn't I wouldn't be here. But what brought me here wasn't sitting around and waiting for fate to happen. It was taking fate right by the horns and dragging it to where it should be. And that I wouldn't have achieved without the help of my best friend.

She decided that she was sick of him moping. Or maybe it was me she was sick of mopping around; I'm not really sure. So she did something that might have cost her dearly. She put us – me and him and our happiness – before herself and for that I owe her everything. It was her intervention that was the turning point. I know that it's been dressed up as some romantic declaration on my part or his, some over the top situation that really would never happen, in some idyllic location that as sixth and seventh years we would never have access to, even with my twin brothers extensive knowledge. But it really wasn't like that. True, it is from that that my whole life changed. That its how I'm so happy with my life – how we are so happy. Its from that that I – we – have the life we've always wanted. Always dreamed about and wished for. But the actual event wasn't all that dramatic, at least not from our point of view. From hers I'm certain it was a little more eventful.

You see she decided one Saturday afternoon, right before Halloween, that she would give fate a helping hand. Or more accurately a great big shove. So, she carefully reasoned all her arguments for and against, did relevant research by asking my brother his opinion, ignoring it anyways and then she did it. And it changed everything.

At first it was awkward. Frighteningly so. I'd always believed- hoped is probably the more appropriate word- that we would be together, but that afternoon I was confronted with the awful realisation that this might not be so.

You see she told him. Hermione Granger got Harry Potter to stand in front of the empty Gryffindor common room, me on the chair by the fire and proceeded to tell him that I loved him. And by the way he ought to ask me to Hogsmeade for the following weekend.

I could have died right there and then from the pure shock of it. I'd made her swear never to tell and she'd not only broken her promise, but she'd broken it with me stood in the room and watching. I was livid. I was absolutely incensed and as Weasleys are famous for, I began with my temper.

Only before I could get halfway into full 'mad mode' I saw him. He looked like someone had told him Neville had been kissing Snape who was dressed as a Hippogriff and doing a little dance. He appeared to be trying to breathe, but was obviously having some difficulty doing so. And he wouldn't look at me. He really wouldn't look at me. I mean it had only taken me until fourth year to be able to speak coherently to him, and until sixth year before we considered ourselves friends, so it wasn't much of a rip in our relationship. Not.

I couldn't take my eyes of him as all of a sudden my anger was replaced with a sweeping sense of shame. Embarrassment. I felt like running as far and as fast as my scrawny legs would carry me. At the same time I felt like hexing Hermione Granger into oblivion.

But then you see she didn't shut up. And that's why I had to forgive her for betraying my confidence. I remember only dimly realising that she was still talking, but as soon as I realised she was actually addressing me I seemed to come around somewhat. Although the breathing thing wasn't actually there. Ginny, she said, don't be mad, there is a reason, its for the best. I just nodded stupidly. Then she turned towards him and I saw Harry's eyes go wide and she said 'he's in love with you too'.

That's it. Six words. They changed my life forever. Harry was a little more focused that I – he made to run to the door, only Hermione stood in his way. She made him look right into her eyes and told him to stop being afraid. Not of Voldermort she said, and he nodded. That was the first night I saw him cry.

She left us alone and for a while we didn't say anything. We sat on the chairs in ominous silence, side by side, not saying anything. Occasionally we would glance at each other, but as soon as we made eye contact we'd both blush and look away. A bit daft really, considering the circumstances.

Almost without realising we'd moved close. Our arms were touching but we didn't say anything. I remember thinking that her actions were going to change my whole life, my whole life with him any way. I was right, although I was young and embarrassed and scared. I was still right. I kept waiting and waiting for him to say something. Anything. That's when I realised Hermione was right; boys are stupid.

All too soon Seamus Finnegan and Dean flaming Thomas arrived at the common room, loudly gloating about sneaking past Filch with goodness knows what. Whatcha Harry, they said, frowning as Harry and I just sat there. Still not speaking. What's going on, smirked Dean glancing between Harry and me. I blushed. And simultaneously cursed the Weasley blush. Harry coughed and answered nothing. Then I wanted to run again.

But then he did it. Something that proved he'd matured and wasn't just the boy I fell for, but the man as well. Its been highly speculated upon. Talked about and debated, but in the end it was something so simple that you might not have noticed if you weren't looking.

He took my hand in his.

And that's it. That's how it started. Fate intervened in the form of my now sister-in-law, and Harry was brave enough to hold my hand. It all started from there. Everything else all came from his holding my hand in his own.

My children laughed when I told them. They'd heard the stories of how their father defeated the most evil wizard of all time whilst still at school, but it wasn't until they reached Hogwarts themselves that they heard the speculation of how we got together. Our eldest son Ronnie wasn't bothered and never asked until the twins started school and came home for Christmas bustling with the now grossly over-exaggerated stories and begging to know what was true and what was fiction. I told them; Harry wasn't keen, embarrassed to be telling his little girls of how he got together with their mother I suppose.

We smile still, even at our age, at the stories that emerge about how it all started. The day fate intervened, or the day our know-it-all friend interfered as her husband remarks; either way I'm happy. And I make sure I thank fate – and Hermione – every day and will do for the rest of my life. It's daft, but I know Harry does the same.


End file.
